


I'll Be There When You Need Me (And When You Don't)

by reina_inefable



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, AroAce Christine, Fluff, Jake is in a wheelchair permanently, Multi, Rated T for swearing, Reconciliation, Redemption, Slow Burn, and they're trying to figure themselves out, everyones stressed bc its senior year, i want Jeremy to explore his sexuality, jeremy and his dad begin to spend more Quality Time together, jeremy: wow I wish I had a mom, lowkey richjake, senior year so like a lot of stress, so it's not going to be like "yeah I'm bi but I only date guys", squip: I AM MOTHER NOW, the squip returns woohoo, um sweaty Chloe isn't white :))))))
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reina_inefable/pseuds/reina_inefable
Summary: Jeremy is already struggling with a breakup, his sexuality, his strained relationship with his father, the need of a mother figure in his life, the stress of senior year, finding a good college, and figuring out what he wants in life.The last thing he needs in his life is the return of certain Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor.The Squip assures Jeremy it means good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first BMC fic, so I'm really trying to have everyone be in character, but I might make some mistakes. This isn't proofread because I'm lazy af
> 
> Also, English is not my first language, so if you find any errors in my writing, please tell me but please be nice!! 
> 
> oh and don't give ducks bread

Jeremy lay in his bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling. He wore only stripped, red boxers and a plain, white t-shirt as pajamas. There was a calm silence, broken only by the soft chirping of crickets. 

_“I’m still here…”_

…And also the occasional murmur of the Squip.

The teen grimaced. He grunted as he sat up on his bed and made his way to the kitchen. After rummaging for a few minutes through the pantry and fridge, he concluded that there was absolutely no more Mountain Dew Red left. He made a mental note to ask Michael for more as he sat down on a metal stool. It creaked slightly as Jeremy leaned forward to place his elbows on the dirty countertop and his head in his hands.

It was the night before senior year began, merely 9 months after the… _incident_ with the Squip. Every week or so, Jeremy could swear he heard the Squip faintly calling his name. And every time it occurred, he’d down a cup of Mountain Dew Red and he’d be perfectly fine for the time being. Curiously enough, it didn't happen to Jake, Rich, Jenna, Brooke, Chloe, or Christine.

Jeremy had a headache. His mind replayed everything that had happened that day, like a pathetic slideshow of unfortunate events.

 

He’d woken up to at least a million new zits on his face. The lavender-scented hand soap that he had then mistakenly proceeded to use to harshly scrub his face with only made his skin redder and itchier and more irritated. Being sufficiently disgusted with the mess he'd made on his face, he dragged his feet to the kitchen, hoping that his father was cooking something for breakfast. Instead, Jeremy found a paper with a message hastily scribbled on it by his father.

 

_Jeremy—_

_Had to leave early for a business meeting. Will be back by Monday. Don't forget to call your grandmother._

_Dad_

 

Jeremy had huffed and tossed the paper aside. How many more of these meetings was his father going to have?

Maybe Micheal had food. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey Michael. Can I come over?” Jeremy heard loud coughing on the other side of the receiver as he began to shuffle around his living room.

“Oh… Hey man,” Micheal greeted in a croaky voice. “You know I’d normally say yes, but not today.” More coughing. “I think I caught something overnight.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Do you need anything? I can bring Tylenol or Advil or I can run to the store and get you anything you need,” Jeremy offered, willing to help his best friend.

“No, it’s okay. My parents got me covered, but thanks.” Sniffle. “I’m really tired, so—“

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll just, uh, go now. If you need anything at all, I’m just a call away.”

“Thanks man.” Hang up. Jeremy’s stomach groaned and he began to scavenge for food like a little kid. In the process, his hip got caught in the pointed edge of the dining table and he doubled over in pain.

In the afternoon, Jeremy had met up with Christine at the park. It was an unusually hot day, and there was no way to hide the sweat pancakes on his light gray shirt. They had wandered around, feeding bread to ducks and conversing about anything and everything. Well, at least Jeremy was. Christine had been unusually quiet all day.

Once they had finished eating from the food court at the mall, he decided to address the elephant in the room.

He cautiously asked, “What’s wrong?”

Christine had abruptly looked up from her chocolate milkshake and leaned back on her chair. She tucked some short strands of jet black hair behind her ear. She looked as if she had a lot on her mind but couldn't find a way to express it. Or maybe she had a lot to say and something was holding her back. Or she was suddenly completely mute. Or— any way, the point was, Christine was hesitating.

She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Jeremy,” she started, “but we can’t go out anymore.”

A million possibilities ran through Jeremy’s mind at once, each worse than the last. Did her parents not approve?  Was she tired of him? Did she think he was lame? Was she moving away? Was she in love with someone else? Was she _cheating_ on him?

She reached over and grabbed his hand. “Why?” was all Jeremy able to utter.

She frowned. “It’s just… Oh, where do I begin? Remember when I said I wanted to go out with you all those months ago?”

Jeremy nodded slowly,. It seemed like a century ago.

“Well… I thought you were pretty nice, so I figured, I might give you a chance. I convinced myself I’d fall in love… But, I haven’t. It’s not your fault, really, I just—“

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No, no, Jer, you have been perfect. But I just can’t force myself. I mean, I’ve never been in love with a guy before, so I gave it a try to see if I could fall in love with you. For a while, I asked myself, maybe I’m gay? But the thing is, I’ve never liked girls either!” Christine pulled away her hand from Jeremy’s grasp, and brought it to her chin. She was springing back to her talkative, perky state, and he couldn't help but smile a little at that.

“My point is, Jeremy, I really, really, _really_ like you, but not as a boyfriend. I’m sorry, I hope you understand. I want to be friends, but I need to figure myself out.”

Jeremy felt a slight knot in his throat. So she really hadn't liked him as much as he thought. He wanted to protest, to tell her they could still find a way to go out, that she could fall in love with him with a little more time. But her face looked so hopeful under the mall’s fluorescent lights. He inhaled loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“As long as you’re happy.” He managed to plaster a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” She jumped up from her seat to hug Jeremy tightly, leaving him, quite literally, breathless.

“Christine… You’re— you're choking me!” 

“Oops, sorry!” She loosened her grip. The smile on her face was brighter than the sun.

When Jeremy had walked Christine home, she kissed him on the cheek gently and asked, “Friends?”

“Friends.”

On his way back home, it began to pour. Ironically, soon as Jeremy was safe and sound in the comfort of his shabby house, the sky cleared up. It was around 5:00pm. The rain had left him with the power out.

The teen groaned as he peeled off his soggy clothes and hung them to dry on his desk chair. It was going to be back anytime soon.

A _ding!_ was emitted from his phone. A text from Micheal.

**Player 1:** Still sick. Don’t think I can come to school tomorrow.

Just as Jeremy was about to respond, his phone died. He put it to charge.

He sat on the edge of the tub and let the water run so that it could warm up. For a moment he contemplated jerking off, but then thought better of it. He wasn't really in the mood. The whole situation with Christine had really left him with a somber mood. He refused to cry; Christine was happy, and he should be too. 

Should.

Jeremy moved closer to the mirror. Upon close inspection, his face appeared to have somewhat healed from that morning’s abuse, but not enough. It still looked gross. He looked horribly like a stereotypical nerd with his flared-up acne and ugly braces. The dentist had lied when he got braces at 14.

_Only two years my ass,_ thought Jeremy. He was going on three years already.

_“You can’t get rid of me that easy!”_ called out a terrifyingly familiar voice faintly as he stepped into the shower, causing the pale boy to jump out of his own skin. He tripped on the edge of the tub and banged his head on the wall.

“FUCK!” 

Jeremy rubbed at his sore head. Which the shower head proceeded to land on.

 

Currently, Jeremy pushed his eyes back into his skull with the palms of his sweaty hands. His head throbbed from the pain of his headache-turned-into-migrain. Though Advil didn't help soothe it out and he could still hear vague whispering from the Squip, he managed to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~

That night, Jeremy dreamt he was drowning in a black ocean. He couldn't swim, something was gripping his feet and wouldn't let go, no matter how hard he kicked and struggled and flailed his arms.

The silhouettes of Micheal, Christine, and Jeremy’s father were visible on the shore. Jeremy was sinking, black water filling his lungs. It a harrowing experience. Those on the shore appeared not to notice his fatal struggle. Or perhaps they did, and just chose to ignore it.

Just as he was losing consciousness, two blue, glowing lights appeared overhead, and a gray hand reached out to his.


	2. In Which I Continue This Terrible Idea And Also the Squip Makes an Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Squip makes an entrance. Jeremy isn't exactly pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I'm so so sorry this took so long to post, but I wanted to make sure it was perfect. (Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration.) thank you so much for all your lovely comments in the last chapter! Honestly, they were my motivation to keep writing. 
> 
> This is my first time writing the Squip, and I am not sure if it's very accurate, but I promise I tried my best. (Sorry in advance if you can't read italics very well!!) if you have any suggestions on how to make the characterization, please lmk!! 
> 
> Lastly, this was going to be much longer, but I realized that it was way too long, so i decided to split the chapters

Maybe trying to wash off the sensation of being trapped under icy water with a boiling hot shower wasn’t the best idea, but Jeremy decided to do so anyways. Vapor filled the bathroom and made it hard to see. He scrubbed and scrubbed his skin vigorously, so much it became painful and left his body red and raw. Fortunately, his migraine was gone, and he felt so much better.

It was tradition for to seniors arrive with their parents to school on the first day of senior year.  
Everyone was a part of this tradition; if it wasn't a mom or dad, it was some other close family member.

The pavilion resonated with excited chatter as parents moved towards the benches to watch the senior entrance. The benches were soon loaded with other students eager to watch. Luckily, the pavilion was indoors, or else the heat would have been too much to handle.

The senior entrance wasn’t too impressive, but it was fun to watch. The theme was, almost unsurprisingly, High School Musical. Those who had participated practiced a dance with a remix from the movies. Christine, of course, had been the first to volunteer for it. She played Gabriella; Rich was Troy; Brooke was Sharpay. Chloe seemed almost pissed to have to play a background character.

Those who weren't part of the performance sat with their friends or family members laughing and cheering on the dancers. Jeremy’s heart twinged almost imperceptibly.

Jeremy’s father was absent, once again.

  
Actually, forget that thing about his migraine being gone. Jeremy was in his first class where a new teacher called out attendance. His head throbbed painfully.

The Squip called his name once before it was replaced with something awful.

Gradually but steadily, raucous sounds emanating from somewhere inside his head increased their volume, so much that they made the noisy talking from his classmates seem like nothing. He held his head in his hands and attempted to silence a whine that threatened to escape his lips.

The sounds in his head could only be described to be comparable to those of dial up internet, but so, so much worse.

Someone put their hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. He looked up abruptly, causing his head to throb even more.

“Kid, you alright?” The teacher ask, a worried look on her pretty, young face.

Jeremy huffed and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the eyes of his classmates boring into him. Nosy fuckers. “Yes, miss… I’m, off, I’m fine. Just a headache.” He swallowed; he was drawing attention to himself, which was the one he had wanted to avoid altogether.

“That don’t look fine to me. Go to the bathroom,” she instructed.

Though he didn't want to, he did as he was told. Not doing so would only attract more attention. What a great start to senior year, Jeremy thought to himself. He was sweating, breathing hard, and probably crimson red in the face. He must have looked worse, though, because students and teachers alike moved away from his path and averted their eyes at the sight of him. He really wished Micheal were there with him.

_“Reboot and calibration in progress. Please excuse some mild discomfort.”_

Oh shit.

Jeremy bolted. Blinding pain shot though his body and he forced himself to suppress a shriek. To anyone who wasn’t aware of his situation, Jeremy looked like a madman darting through the school halls and harshly shoving people aside for no reason.

“GET OUT!” he screamed to a scrawny little freshman who was washing his hands.

“W-what?” His voice sounded like he hadn't quite reached puberty yet.

“GET OUT!” The freshman looked terribly frightened as he scrambled to get his belongings and exit the bathroom as quickly as humanly possible.

_“Reboot and calibration complete. Access procedure initiated.”_

Jeremy brusquely shut the door behind him and locked it. It was as if someone had dumped gasoline on him, and now they were holding a lit match and threatened to set him on fire.

_"Discomfort level may increase."_

Just then, Jeremy’s body began to convulse. He fell to the floor with a loud -thump-. A million volts of electricity shocked him at once. He writhed and shrieked and spasmed and for a second Jeremy thought, _Hey, maybe death isn’t so bad._

_“Accessing neuro memory; accessing muscle memory."_

_This is where I die. Alone, in a dirty school bathroom floor._

_"Access procedure complete."_

And then… nothing.

So he was still alive.

Jeremy gingerly stood up, not daring to peek behind him. Everything was quiet for a moment. The only sounds were his heavy breathing and the rapid drumming from his chest.

_"Hello, Jeremy."_

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He turned slowly to face the Squip. Its projected form appeared to lean back against the bathroom wall, with one foot propped up.

"You're— you're back!" Jeremy breathed out. His body ached and he was on edge. His legs wobbled as if they couldn't hold up his weight. Every small noise he heard out in the hallway made him jump slightly.

_“Yes, it appears so. Stop wincing. Don't act surprised, Jeremy. You knew it was going to happen eventually.”_

He tried to recompose himself; he refused to seem weak in front of a computer.

The Squip stepped closer. Next to Jeremy it seemed impossibly tall and intimidating.

_“We both know I am much more than just a computer.”_

"Wh- why, no, how are you back?" Jeremy moved backwards until his back touched the wall, as far away from the Squip as possible. (Well, about as far away from a holographic representation of a wintergreen Tic Tac inside your brain as you can get.) The Squip didn't try to stop him.

In a monotone voice, it responded, _“All Squips, if not properly disactivated, go through a system reboot sooner or later.”_

"W- what? I don't get it! Christine drank the Mountain Dew Red and deactivated everyone's Squips! Why are you back— in me? Are their Squips back, too?”

The Squip walked around Jeremy with an air of disdain, as if inspecting a truly pathetic creature. _“No,”_ it replied, _“I am the only one who has been able to complete a reboot.”_

“Why?” Jeremy swallowed. The Squip fixated its cold gaze on him.

_“I am inside your head, Jeremy. I had a few milliseconds of a heads up when you got the idea of making Christine drink the Mountain Dew Red. It was just enough time for me to disconnect myself from all the others."_

Dread filled his stomach. The moths in his guts made their way up his esophagus, burning his throat and filling his mouth with bile.

“I've… I've drunk Mountain Dew Red many times… Why aren't you just dead?”

_“I'm a type of artificial intelligence that emulates human intelligence. I learn from my own mistakes and from those of others and I make myself stronger. Mountain Dew Red no longer shuts me down permanently. It simply puts me in a sort of… sleep mode.”_

Jeremy's legs shook violently, threatening to give up altogether. He was an inch away from fainting. At this, the Squip suddenly acquired a concerned look on its face and reached out to him.

"Don't— don't touch me!"

The Squip exhaled (or appeared to). _“You know I can't touch you, Jeremy.”_

"Go away!" Jeremy screeched childishly.

It held up its hands in mock defeat. _“My sole purpose is to improve your life.”_

"Doesn't seem like it!"

Upon hearing these words, the Squip appeared confused. _“I don't understand. I assure you, it is!”_

"I mean, you made my life shit! You shocked me every time I slouched or tried to jack off and made my self esteem go from shit to shittier! I lied to everyone! I acted like someone I wasn't, I became dependent on a voice in my head, and I nearly lost my best friend!" Jeremy's had cracked at every other word, which seemed to happen whenever he was extremely agitated. His stomach tightened at the thought of how much he had hurt Micheal.

 _“But you got together with Christine!”_ It protested.

"You almost turned the whole school into zombies! And besides, she broke up with me yesterday! You didn't improve my life at all!"

The Squip said nothing, and its face betrayed no emotion. Instead, it began to glitch. _“I understand I am not… faultless. And for that, I apologize. How can I improve your life, Jeremy?”_

Jeremy shuffled towards the bathroom door.

“By not being in it.”

 

Most of the morning went by without comments from the Squip, but Jeremy still felt uncomfortable and anxious whenever he glanced around and saw it's dark figure looming in a corner, usually with its arms crossed and an expressionless façade. Its body was still as a mountain, clad in an unmoving black trench coat and smooth, royal blue shirt underneath. Its impeccable hair seemed like it was taken straight from a picture for an advertisement for a prestigious barber shop (which it probably was).

Though the Squip itself didn't move an inch (or at least, appear to), its icy, menacing, turquoise eyes darted around the room frantically, as if searching for something.

At lunch, Jeremy sat with Christine; Rich and Jake soon joined them, with Rich driving Jake’s wheelchair as fast as his short legs could go. (Which, all is things considered, was pretty damn fast.)The Squip still appeared to be in its trance. It didn't make eye contact with Jeremy once. Jeremy feared what it might be doing.

He was more quiet than usual during lunch. He didn't tell them about the Squip, but he tried to watch for any change in their behavior. Christine talked endlessly as usual, and Jake made jokes as usual, and Rich pined hopelessly for Jake as usual (to which the latter was oblivious to, as usual). They didn't seem to notice Jeremy's silence.

  
While he was walking to Micheal’s, the Squip snapped.

 _“You have no goals,”_ it spat.

“What?” Startled by the sudden comment, Jeremy flinched. He was sweating and he hated walking to Micheal’s house since it was so far away, but the bus was not a option. He’d rather have sweat dripping down his back while he was alone than with other people.

 _“Arch your back. Think at me, don't talk,”_ the Squip ordered, matching its pace with Jeremy's. He followed suit though out of fear it might shock him again.  _“You have no goals.”_

_Okay…?_

_“Jeremy, that's not a good thing. I searched your brain all day for something you wanted. Desires. Dreams. Goals. Anything. I found nothing.”_

_So?_

_“You don't want to achieve anything! I am useless in a situation like this!”_

_I don't need you. I don't want anything. I have a good life. Well, had, until you came back, asshole._

_“You cannot afford to be complacent! It won't get you anywhere in life!”_ The Squip seemed agitated, flailing its arms expressively with every word.

 _What do you care? You're not my dad. You have any right to say that to me._ His dad had had a similar discussion with him a few months ago; he didn't feel like having it a second time.

_“Jere—“_

_Shut up,_ he thought fiercely as Micheal’s big, contemporary-style house came into view. _I’m getting rid of you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story last night some guy told me I speak English with a slight accent lmao
> 
> Umm ya lowkey richjake and also jake is in a wheelchair
> 
> If you find yourself at fault with my writing (characterization, grammar, typos, etc) please tell me! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!


	3. In Which Micheal Is Beautiful and I Didn't Get Inspiration Until Like a Third of the Way Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Squip implies, Jeremy gets bad news, and Micheal's sweater gets soaked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm back !! It's been like 60 years I know but I was planning to finish on Sunday but then my dad decided to take me to a river and I couldn't finish. (I have like 3 bug bites on my neck now and everyone thinks they're hicks lmao)
> 
> For the first 1/3 of this I didn't have any inspiration whatsoever but I think its okay ? (I sure hope so)
> 
> On the bright side, this is around 2,500 words (2,510 to be exact) so yea
> 
> Your lovely comments and kudos inflating my big fucking ego were what motivated me to keep writing, really, so thank you so much for that!!!! Anyways have this trash that I made w my own hands

“Mrs. Navarro!” Jeremy called, knocking loudly on the wooden door

The Squip moved in front of Jeremy, between him and the door. _“I apologize for anything I have done to jeopardize your friendship with Micheal Mell,”_ it said. Jeremy continued to ignore it. It was way too late for apologies.

It held out its arms towards Jeremy, who stepped back in disgust. _“But you have to understand that everything I did was necessary for achieving your goals.”_

_I thought I told you to shut up._

_“You did. I understand that you are still upset because of—“_

The front door opened suddenly, causing the Squip to glitch and pixelate. A wave of cold air conditioning slapped Jeremy in the face. “Jeremy!” Mrs. Navarro greeted cheerfully.

“Hey, Mrs. Navarro,” Jeremy greeted back, allowing Micheal’s mother to plant a cheek kiss on him.

 “How are you? Come inside, Micheal was just taking a shower.”

 Micheal had a striking resemblance to his mother; they both had the same dark hair, strong but elegant profile, and the exact same freckle right above the lip. Micheal's dark, upturned eyes, full, downturned lips, and olive skin came from his father.

If he was honest, Micheal was pretty good looking. No, that wasn't the word… Micheal was—

 _“Handsome? Beautiful? Gorgeous?”_ The Squip loomed in the entrance with its arms crossed and a perfect eyebrow raised inquisitively. Jeremy scowled but said (or thought) nothing. It kept observing him, as if trying to decipher a code.

“Do you want anything, cariño?” Mrs. Navarro asked.  “We’ve got soda, juice, cookies. I'm making dinner.” 

Jeremy smiled awkwardly. Despite her strong character, she was always so kind and eager to serve. “No thanks I’ll, uh, just wait for Micheal in the basement.”

There were three floors in the Mell-Navarro household, a sharp contrast to Jeremy's, which only had one. Photograph after photograph and the occasional painting lined the walls like an enormous collage. One picture in particular caught his eye: a slightly younger Micheal, laughing and smiling brighter than the sun; around him was his entire family, complete with cousins and uncles and aunts and grandparents. Then, another picture grabbed his attention: it a was a snapshot of Micheal dancing with his mother, their faces full of joy.

Jeremy thought of his house, with blank, barren walls, deserted of any personal touch or photographs of Jeremy with his family or Jeremy with his father or Jeremy with his mother—

His mother.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, and he shook his head as if it would clear those thoughts from his head. He didn't want to think of his mother right now.

He treaded through the lively and colorful hall and down the stairs. Though Jeremy didn't notice, the Squip lingered behind momentarily, imprinting the image of Micheal with his mother and another image of Micheal and Jeremy into its memory. The latter was one that the teen hadn't noticed. Then, it followed quickly behind.

Once in the basement, which consequently was Micheal's bedroom, Jeremy inspected the Wall of Video Games. The rest of Micheal's room was a sovereign disaster, with clothes strewn about and empty slushee cups scattered here and there. However, the Wall of Video Games was like the eye of the hurricane that was the mess, a taste of order in the midst of all the chaos; it was meticulously organized on shelves, categorized in sections by what system was used to play it. Every section was organized in alphabetical order. It was an impressive collection, and God have mercy on you if you dared to even switch the places of one game with another. Micheal _always_ noticed.

Michael stepped into the room, wearing nothing but a towel to cover his body and another to dry his hair. Jeremy never got used to seeing him without glasses. 

“Oh, hey man!” He greeted the paler boy. 

Jeremy smiled and sat in Micheal’s bed. “Hey, how you feeling?” It was completely normal for Jeremy to be around his best friend when he was almost naked; being friends with someone for long enough implies having seen each other fully unclothed at least once.

Michael disappeared into his sizeable closet and reappeared a second later, now wearing some gray joggers. “I'm feeling a lot better, actually. Had a fever. I'm really sorry I couldn't make it today. How was your first day of senior year?” He bent over a pile of clothes on the floor.

The pale boy watched carefully as the tanner boy rummaged for an unknown something-in-particular. He observed in a totally-not-creepy way how relaxed Micheal seemed. He directed his attention to how some body rolls formed and changed shape with every movement. There was a slight indentation on Micheal's hair, caused by the excessive use of headphones. As Micheal pulled over the “CREEPS” sweatshirt over his head, he saw the thin line of hairs that snaked their way up his lower stomach and stopped at his bellybutton.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Squip examining him with interest. 

_“Tell him that sweatshirt looks nice on him.”_

For a split second, Jeremy almost did, but he stopped himself. He wasn't going to comply with anything the Squip ordered. He shot a withering look at it. _Fuck off. Why would I even do that?_

The Squip hummed. _“No particular reason, I suppose.”_

“Hello? Earth to Jeremy?” Michael was snapping his finger in Jeremy’s face. 

Jeremy suddenly flinched and snapped back to reality. “Sorry, I was just, uh, distracted. First day was… fine.”

“Okay,” Micheal said, “well then, what's wrong?”

Jeremy motioned for him to sit down by patting the bed. “Look, uh, so I'm out of Mountain Dew Red.”

“Oh? Is that what's wrong? In that case I can hook you up with my dealer—“

“No,” he interrupted, “no— I mean, yes I want you to hook me up with your dealer, but that's not the problem.”

_“Jeremy, I honestly don't think telling Micheal about me is a very good idea.”_

“The thing is… it's back.”

Micheal frowned. “What’s back? The— the _Squip?_ ” He ran his hands through his wet hair, sprinkling Jeremy a little in the face.

“What— what happened with the Mountain Dew Red?”

“I ran out.”

The tanner of the two put his fingers to his temple, and leaned back on his bed.

“I need you to help me get rid of it,” Jeremy said.

The Squip scoffed. _“I'm right here, asshole.”_

_Like I give a shit. You're always there, anyway._

_“It’s still rude while I’m projecting my holographic form.”_

_It’s not like you have any other option._

_“I do, actually.”_ And with that, the Squip slowly pixelated more and more until it was a blur, and then it faded until it completely disappeared.

“Hello? Jeremy?” Michael was waving a hand in Jeremy’s face. “Did you hear what I just said?”

Jeremy rubbed his eyes and frowned. “No, no. Sorry I was just… distracted.”

 _“Say the truth, Jeremy,”_ the Squip interjected from the inside of his mind, like in movies when there’s a disembodied voice telling the characters what to do or narrating the story.

“A-actually, uh, I was talking to the Squip.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Micheal huffed. “You were talking to the Squip. Right, okay. I was saying that we should head to the mall, talk with my dealer, see if she’s got anything in stock. Sound good?”

 

 

 

When Micheal told his mother they were leaving, he didn’t mention why. He simply said that they’d be back before dinner, and his mother responded with a concerned, “Be careful. Stay alert on the road, mijo,” and a kiss on both his and Jeremy’s cheeks.

Once in the car, the shorter of the two said, “Sorry about my mom. She’s so touchy-feely sometimes.” He pressed play on his phone and soon a familiar, silky voice filled the car. 

“It’s fine.” Jeremy absentmindedly touched the place where Micheal’s mother had kissed him, and remembered that was the same spot Christine had kissed too. He couldn't remember the last time anyone, besides Christine, had kissed him or even hugged him. His dad wasn’t a very affectionate person. When was the last time he had even had a proper conversation with his father? He couldn’t remember. 

Jeremy glanced at the rearview mirror and made eye-contact with a pair of, icy turquoise eyes.

“Jesus fuck!” he breathed out.

“You okay, man?” Micheal’s voice was laced with worry.

The pale teen shifted in his seat. “Yeah, just, uh, a lot on my mind lately. A lot on my mind…” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, who’s that?” He asked, trying to change the subject; the last thing he wanted was to worry his friend with his stupid issues.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t know about Ol’ Blue Eyes, Frank Sinatra!” Michael stopped at a red lightens turned to look at Jeremy, his eyes bulging and his mouth wide open cartoonishly. Jeremy chuckled at the humorous sight and shrugged.

“It just doesn’t sound like what you usually listen to.”

“My dear friend,” Micheal said turning back to the road, “I don't usually listen to ‘one’ type of music. I listen to a little bit of everything! Just because you don't listen to much of anything doesn't mean I don’t.”

“I do listen to lots of different music!”

_“No you don’t.”_

“Nah, you don’t. You listen to whatever I play in the car. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn't even know who Rihanna is!” The olive-skinned boy laughed as he parked the rusty old pickup truck in at the mall’s parking lot, and Jeremy couldn't help but smile weakly, too, because it was true.

 

 

 

To say Jeremy was in a shit mood once they were back at Micheal’s house would be a severe understatement. He had resisted the temptation to break down and cry, all throughout dinner with both of Micheal’s parents. He had even managed to smile and laugh along a couple of times on cue. Really, inside, his throat had tightened to the point that it was hard to swallow and the moths that had decided to make a home out of his insides threatened to expel every piece of sushi that entered his stomach right where they came from.

As soon as they were back in the basement and Micheal had popped in _Apocalypse of the Damned 2: Return of the Undead,_ his best friend pulled the trigger.

“Are you okay?” That damned concerned look on his friend and those three damned words.

“I-I.” But Jeremy couldn't from a coherent sentence; his throat burned with acid and his mouth filled with bile. He bolted to the bathroom and let himself spill his guts into the toilet. He sobbed, and sobbed, and shook violently.

The Squip had followed closely behind and was crouching down next to the teen. _“I can help! I-I can stop your tears!”_

_Huh?_

_“I can seal your tear ducts!”_

_No! NO! Fuck off!_

“Jeremy? Oh fuck, fuck,” Michael said as he kneeled next to his friend and rubbed his back, and whispered meaningless “You’re going to be okay, I’m here”’s over and over and didn't leave his side.

Eventually the vomiting stopped and the crying subsided a little. His best friend gave him a towel to wipe his face. Then, Jeremy was led to the basement with an arm wrapped around him.

Micheal hugged him tightly, not minding how limp Jeremy’s arms were at his side or how his favorite sweatshirt was being soaked with salty tears and snot. The Squip hovered at the foot of the bed, expressionlessly but glitching wildly.

Nobody dared to utter a word.

 

 

At the mall, they had gone straight to the the Ladies Foot Locker, where a short woman with vitiligo and a loose ponytail was organizing some boxes.

“Leira!” the shorter teen greeted. Leira turned to look, and after taking a moment to recognize them she greeted back.

“Hey! Micheal! And, I see you’ve brought your… boyfriend?”

“Nah, he’s just my friend, Jeremy.” At this, Jeremy nodded his head and waved.

“Jeremy, this is my dealer, Leira.” She waved back cheerfully. 

She beckoned for them to follow her into the storage. “So, tell me, what are you in for today? Crystal Pepsi? Coca-Cola Blak? Clear Root Beer?”

“Actually, we’re looking for Mountain Dew Red?” Leira scratched the back of her head.

“I’m actually all out,” she said as she peeked inside a few boxes to make sure. 

The moths in Jeremy’s stomach appeared to wake up at this and slowly began to roam around his insides. The Squip smirked, the corner of its mouth raising ever so slightly.

Micheal put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a knowing look. “Oh, alright… When’s your next order coming through?”

Leira rubbed her nose. “Uh, let’s see. I ordered them from China two days ago, since I didn't realize until late that I had run out so… and considering how far China is… I’d say a month, month and a half. If you want, I can give you a call as soon as the soda gets here.”

“That’d be great, thanks. See you around.” Micheal escorted Jeremy out.

Jeremy felt himself begin to perspire just a bit. The moths began to frolic and eat away.

_I cant believe I'm stuck with you for another month. Oh my god._

The Squip just shrugged cooly. There was a satisfied expression on its face. Then, something appeared to catch its eye and it frowned.

_“Don’t turn your head.”_

_What? Why?_

_“Just don’t turn your— oh my god! What did I just say?”_ It hastily tried to move between Jeremy and whatever it didn't want him to see, but it was too late. 

Christine was walking through the food court, beautiful and hyper as always. She wasn’t alone; an Asian boy  with slicked back hair who towered good foot over had his arm linked around hers. He had a nervous aura to him, and he seemed to have just said something that caused Christine to laugh, judging by the way her shoulders were shaking and her head was thrown back.

Jeremy had stopped dead in his tracks, and his friend did too. His heart plummeted to the ground and through every single one of the Earth’s layers right up until it reached the inner core. Had he already been replaced?

“What’s wrong?” Micheal traced with his eyes Jeremy’s gaze, and uttered a soft “ _Oh_ ” when he saw what he was staring at.

“She broke up with me yesterday,” Jeremy said in a hollow voice, forcing himself to look anywhere but at them. He stared at the dirty linoleum floor.

Micheal was silent for a moment, a look of surprise and pity settling on his face. “I’m sorry, man. I… don't know what to say.”

“Let’s just… go.” Jeremy walked several feet ahead of his best friend, his eyes never straying from the ground.

“ _I tried to warn you. I told you not to look.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to talk to me for any reason you can find me on Tumblr @roses4nana
> 
> Edit: kill me I left off an incomplete sentence that said "The Squip" and cut off there,, it's fixed now 
> 
> If you find yourself at fault with anything in my writing (typos, characterization, grammar, etc.) please tell me! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!


	4. In Which I Try To Make This Angsty and A Shark Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is angry and tired. His father isn't the best, but he's trying. The Squip tries to make Jeremy understand.
> 
> (Read chapter notes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Sorry for the wait, but this time I have a valid excuse. As I started to write this chapter, I was forced to get my wisdom teeth removed and basically I was in way too much pain for like 5 days, and add to that the fact that my self esteem plummeted because my face swelled up. Then, my family took me to stay with them at a hotel, meaning I barely got around to writing. Plus, I wasn't able to take my computer, so I had to write this completely on my phone, which makes it A LOT harder. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!! I'm really proud of the second half (the dream part)
> 
> Warnings: Child-parent arguing/fighting and slight-mild drowning imagery. Nothing too bad, but if this gives you anxiety, feel free to message me for a summary! <3

The whole car ride home was silent, save for the soft voice of Carla Morrison lulling Jeremy to sleep. The Squip appeared to be in a trance, with its eyes seemingly closed and at times misaligning and re-aligning seconds later.

Michael gently shook Jeremy awake when they arrived. “Hey… we’re here.”

Jeremy yawned and rubbed his eyes. His face was still blotchy and sticky from all the crying.  
“Thanks for driving me home,” he said as he stepped out of the car.

“It's no big, bro. Y’know, you can stay over tonight if you want. Just in case.”

“No, its okay. Thanks,” Jeremy said sheepishly.

_“A ‘thank you’ is much more meaningful than a thanks.”_

Jeremy faltered for a second, then said, “Thank you.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.” Michael waved goodbye and didn't leave until he was sure that Jeremy was inside.

The inside of the house was dark and quiet. A mirror in the entrance reflected just a hint of light from the moon, but it was just enough for Jeremy to get a full view of his face. His eyes were puffy, and his nose was red. Despite the redness the acne gave him, his actual skin still looked gray and dead. He inhaled loudly. As he took a few more steps inside, he suddenly heard the low humming of the television.

His father was asleep on the couch, obviously pantsless, his face illuminated by the television and his phone held loosely in his hand. Jeremy moved to turn the TV off, but the Squip wildly shook its head “no” and put a gray finger to its lips. The teen grimaced and flipped it off.

 _“Jeremy,”_ it said, _“I believe it would be much more beneficial to you if you made no noise and left the television on. Just take a shower and go to bed.”_

Jeremy looked it in its cool, cutting eyes and turned the TV off. It slapped a hand to its forehead and shook its head again.

“Dad, I’m home.”

Jeremy’s father jerked awake and took a moment to focus on Jeremy with squinty eyes. Then, he groaned and rubbed his face.

“Jeremy?”

“Yeah… hi, dad.” Jeremy suddenly felt awkward and scratched his neck. “I’m, uh, going to bed.”

As he turned on his heel, his father stopped him.

“Where the _hell_ were you?”

“I was at Michael’s. Not a big deal.”

His father made a face. “Not a big deal? _Not a big deal?_ I had no fucking idea where you were. Jeremy, I called and called and nothing.” Jeremy reached into his pocket for his phone and saw that it was dead.

“Sorry.” He waved the phone in his face, showing that it had no battery and made to walk away.

“You don't text, you don't call; for all I knew, you’d been kidnapped or murdered or dead or something!”

He took off his shoes and walked around his father.

“I was worried sick!”

Jeremy stopped short. He usually avoided confrontations with his father because he didn't like to fight. But he was so exhausted and tired and just really fucking fed up with _everything_ that those last words made something inside of him just… _snap_. His cheek twitched just slightly for a fleeting moment.

“Oh, so now you're worried about me?” He turned around to see his father, fury distorting his features. “Yeah, right. Don't act like you care about me.”

“The hell you talking about? Of course I care about you! What—”

“No— no you don’t!” Jeremy felt the words he'd kept inside for so long spilling from his mouth uncontrollably. “You don't care whether I eat, you don't care if I’m okay in school, you don't care if— if I’m okay!”

“Jere—“

Jeremy threw his shoes to the floor loudly, making his father shut up.

“Stop! I had to get ‘the talk’ from Michael’s mom. You didn't remember my birthday last year. You're almost never home. You didn't do _shit_ when I told you about my anxiety.” His hands were clenched into tight fists and he felt his face heating up dramatically. His breathing became shallower and shallower by the second. “We- we never do stuff together. There’s never any food in the house. Remember the other day they cut our electricity? Remember that I had to pay that bill because you forgot? Oh, wait.” His nose flared violently. “You don’t! _Because you weren't fucking there!_ You were somewhere off in a ‘business trip.’” He threw his backpack on the floor and pointed at it.

On it, the letters ‘BOYF’ were emblazoned on the front in bold, black letters. They were slightly faded from constant washing in vain attempts to erase them. Tears welled in Jeremy’s eyes.

His voice cracked and his arms flailed at every other word. “A kid wrote that in the beginning of last year. The beginning of last year! You didn't even bother to get me a new backpack! Do you know how humiliating it is to carry that around? What’s more, I have to use the last few pages of last year’s notebooks for classes because you can’t even afford to get me anything new! Don’t say you care about me when I have to go over to Michael’s to not starve. Don’t say you care about me when the only pair of shoes I have would be literally falling apart if it weren’t for the duct tape I put on them. Don't say you care about me when you don't do shit about the panic attacks I get every other day. Don’t say you care about me when you're _never_ fucking _there_ for me!” Salty tears slid down his cheeks, joined at the tip of his pointed chin and drip-drip-dripped to the ground. He was shaking softly. The crying felt different from when he had panic attacks. He wasn't crying because he was unsure or nervous about something; he was crying because he was so _sure_ and _confident_ about this.

His father seemed to reach out to his son for a fugitive, hopeful, and agonizing moment before dropping his hand right back where it was. He fixed his posture before saying, “I’m trying for a better job. You know this. Ever since your— your mother left… Things haven't been easy. Bear with me, please. I'm not perfect. Just because we can’t afford certain things doesn't mean I don't care.”

Jeremy swallowed hard; there was a tight knot in his throat. He missed his mother. She hadn't been anywhere near perfect, but at least she had been there for him when he needed it the most. But then she left. She didn't look back or think twice about it or give any heads up. She just packed her bags one day and—

 _God_ , how he wished she were there at that moment.

Last time he'd heard anything about her was 6 months ago via Facebook; she was supposedly in Vegas. She never tried to contact them, except when she sent a hastily written letter for his 15th birthday, which had been scrawled on a dirty napkin, wasn't longer than a few sentences, and had arrived two weeks after his actual birthday.

Jeremy lowered his head. “I'm tired,” he said warily, “I'm going bed.” And with that, he turned on his heel, head still hanging, and locked himself in his room. For a few seconds, he leaned against his door, as if his father were to suddenly try to bust the door down and he was barricading it with his body.

But his father didn't barge in. The Squip, however, noticed a slight change in the pressure of the door as Jeremy pressed against it, as if someone were leaning on it from the other side. It was imperceptible to the teen, but not to the Squip. A few seconds later, the pressure went back to normal.

The Squip kept this to itself, thinking it better not to hurt the boy more.

Jeremy stripped himself of his damp clothes and showered, letting the water burn him for what seemed like forever but, was, in fact, only 14 minutes, according to the Squip.

 _“Frequent boiling showers aren't any help to your acne, Jeremy,”_ the Squip commented as it projected itself next to him in the foggy mirror. _“In fact, it makes your acne worse and usually leads to rashes and itchiness. Try a lukewarm or cold shower next time.”_

But the teen had no more fight in him for the day, and instead chose to ignore it half heartedly. He threw on some black pajama pants and a gray t-shirt that may-or-may-not have been clean.

Jeremy was hollow. Someone or something or everything and everyone had emptied him out and left him a walking shell of a human. He'd been drained of tears, void of feelings, and vacant of any motivation.

The bed creaked as he sat on it, and more so as he curled up into a ball, wanting to disappear.

 

The Squip watched the teen whimper and grieve quietly until he fell asleep. It processed all of the information registered that day, looking for possible goals for Jeremy.

In the end, it didn't find a possible goal for Jeremy (yet), but it did find one for itself.

It was going to help this boy take control of his life.

 

Icy, black water filled him completely. It entered through his mouth and nose and ears and even his eyes and it fucking burned but he did nothing to try and stop it. Jeremy sunk slowly like a rock, his eyes wide open but unseeing. Or maybe he didn't sink, and instead remained suspended in the water; he couldn't tell.

A gray hand softly but steadily grabbed his and pulled him upwards. Once he was almost at the surface, he was able to see the blue eyes that so often haunted him being his salvation. Another hand sliced through the deadly ocean and pulled him up onto a small lifeboat.

The Squip was sitting down at the other end, its legs crossed and with a perfectly erect posture. Jeremy fell on all fours once on board, and coughed and coughed and vomited water and emptied himself again completely, or rather, just enough to breath. He stood up, and abruptly fell back into the seat across the Squip.

The Squip reached for Jeremy's hand and held on tightly to it. He tried to break free but the Squip didn't budge. Its hand was surprisingly warm and soft and almost… familiar.

“H-how are you touching me?” he asked incredulously.

 _“This is only a dream. None of this is real,”_ it responded. As if to prove a point, with an offhand wave that left a faint blue trail in the air that faded a moment later, it turned the sky into a gray abyss and then into a starry night. The water cleared up, and suddenly everything underneath it was visible. It even made two coffee cups appear with another sleight of hand.

“Where are we?” the teen asked, looking at the coffee in his hand.

The Squip hummed. _“Nowhere in particular.”_ It sipped from its own cup. Silence fell upon them.

Jeremy opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He had a million questions he wanted to ask, but he didn't know what they were.

The Squip let go of its coffee, which remained suspended mid-air, and held its face in one hand. _“What do you want?”_

“Huh?”

_“What do you want, Jeremy?”_

“I don't understand.”

_“Answer the question.”_

“Why are you asking me this?”

 _“Do you know why you think your life is so shitty right now?”_ (Honestly, it was not the word the Squip would have normally chosen to describe anything, but it was what would help the teenager understand.) Jeremy didn't respond.

 _“Your life is average, in terms of ‘shittyness.’”_ It made air quotes on the last word. _“You're not happy. It doesn't take a expert to figure that out. But you can't get happiness from other people or from material objects. You make your own happiness.”_

The Squip paused to make sure that the boy understood.

_“You need to know yourself and what you want.”_

“How do I do that?” Jeremy asked quietly.

 _“For that, you need to know what you want. You are currently in a state of severe uncertainty. You're stuck. You aren't moving in any direction.”_ The Squip gestured to the water. When Jeremy directed his attention to it, he realized the Squip was gesturing to a shark.

The shark was gray and white, with menacing, beady eyes and a mouth full of teeth. It leisurely circled around the tiny lifeboat. Jeremy had never been scared of sharks, and watched it with mild interest.

_“That is a great white shark. They propel themselves with their tail through the water. The tail is vital to swimming, and swimming is literally vital to it.”_

The shark’s tail suddenly seemed to bet cut off, but no blood tinted the clear ocean. Instead, it wriggled and writhed, seemingly in pain. It did not move in any direction.

Jeremy frowned and gulped. The Squip observed the shark with a mixture of concern and disregard.

 _“Sharks need to move around to breathe; if they don't breathe, they drown.”_ The shark struggled for a few more second until it stopped altogether and stilled. It slowly sank.

_“Life is about whether you sink or swim. You are doing neither, and you need to make a decision urgently. So I ask you once more: Jeremy Heere, what do you want?”_

Jeremy felt something rising in his throat, making it hard to speak. He held his neck, feeling his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I want… to be happy.” He coughed out a moth. And then another. And more, and more and more until he was absolutely hollow once more. They were gray and wispy and felt like too much as they swarmed him. The moths danced around them rhythmically and then disintegrated into dust.

“I want to be okay,” he said weakly, attempting to stand up. His eyes fluttered shut and he sobbed.

At this, the Squip stood up and hugged the boy before his knees gave in.

 _“It's going to be okay,”_ the Squip whispered in what it hoped was an assuring tone before letting the boy slip into a dreamless sleep for the remainder of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the part where the Squip is hugging Jeremy comes off as parent/mentor-like, not shippy lmao
> 
> Idk if this was THAT angsty but whatever,, I'm thinking of making the next one kind off funny or at least a lot lighter? Idk, lmk if you want that !!
> 
> If you find yourself at fault with anything in my writing (typos, grammar, characterization, details that don't add up) please tell me! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!


	5. In Which I Love Jeremy But He's Still A White Boy Who Uses Axe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Squip gets a makeover, Jeremy is pissed, and the College Prep teacher is wild.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Pinktoria! <3 (Read chapter notes!!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably product placement lmao
> 
> The chapter is finally here!! The squip takes a more parent-y approach in the beginning of the chapter. The way it reprimands jeremy is based on the way my mom does so to me (except my mom actually forces me to comply haha) Also, yes, the teacher is an oc and she is going to be a recurring character 
> 
> BEFORE I FORGET!! The wonderful and lovely Pinktoria made an impressive animatic inspired by this fic. It's "Lifeboat" from Heathers, but with Jeremy. Please go check it out on youtube! 
> 
> https://youtu.be/E3a8k8Lv4Gw

When Jeremy woke up, he had a very particular and distinct but indescribable feeling. It was that thing you feel when you know you dreamt something amazing and wonderful but you just can’t _remember_ what it was. It was on the tip of his tongue, a memory just a few centimeters out of reach, a treasure just a few more feet underground, an object just out of sight. He knew it was there, and not knowing what it was was gnawing at him slowly.

He'd woken up on his own, and he was left sitting up on his bed, trying in vain to remember. He felt disoriented but at the same time oddly at peace. Sunlight shone in chunky, separate rays through the blinds in his windows. It was still early-morning cold.

 _“Good morning, Jeremy,”_ the Squip greeted suddenly, making Jeremy jump.

" _Je_ -sus!" He breathed, clutching the sweaty bedsheets to his chest. He turned to look at the Squip, who was only half pixelated. As it slowly “solidified,” he noticed that, rather than projecting its trademark trench coat and loose fringe that reached its shoulders, it now sported a royal blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to its elbows and a loose, partially slicked back hairstyle that left a few short strands hanging in its forehead. Jeremy frowned at the change in confusion.

 _"There is reason for this sudden... adaptation,"_ the Squip said, its voice warbled slightly, _"but believe me when I say there is a purpose for it."_

Jeremy rolled his eyes as he threw his long legs over the side of the bed. It whined loudly as he stood.

"Whatever." His voice always sounded more high-pitched right after he woke up. He yawned as he looked over to his computer, a MacBook Pro decorated with so many stickers that the Apple logo wasn't visible. It wasn't one of the more recent models, but it worked fine (if you ignored how hopelessly slow it was).

The teen turned to face the computer. ”Do I _always_ have to see your face?" The Squip crossed its arms, raised an eyebrow, and scoffed. Nonetheless, it faded away. 

Jeremy plopped down on the chair in front of his desk and clicked the power button on his laptop. As he waited for it to turn on, he closed his eyes and let himself feel the rays of sun on his skin. It was warm and pleasant and calm. He opened up the web browser (which took an eternity to load) and began typing in the search bar: _pornh—_

_"Ahem."_

"Oh my _God_!" Jeremy flinched and hit his knees on the desk. The Squip's stern and disapproving face had popped up in his laptop's screen. "You have _got_ to stop doing that!"

_"Do you not remember what I've told you about masturbation?"_

Jeremy, still in his recoiled position, took a moment to recall. Then he remembered what it used to do. 

He shut his computer with a loud _clat!_ and jumped up from his chair, a pleading look on his face and his and crossed over his chest defensively. 

"Are- are you going to shock me?"

 _"What?"_ The Squip frowned and stepped closer to the teen, who stepped back in response. _"No."_ It sighed before raising its hands as if to say 'I mean no harm.' It had just narrowed the rift between them; it didn't want to worsen it by making the boy afraid of it again.

"Why?"

The Squip thought for millisecond, or perhaps two, looking for a simple way to put it. _"If I do so, it will do nothing to help us make amends."_

Jeremy let his arms fall limp and scowled. "What do you care about making amends? I'm getting rid of you." The Squip said nothing and instead stopped projecting its physical form.

The Squip had less than a month to convince the stubborn teen that it had changed and was there to help.

 

 

 

 _"Don't pick at your acne. It only makes it worse."_ Just to spite the Squip, Jeremy picked even more at his face. (And regretted it as soon as he began to bleed.)

"Fuck you.”

 

 _"That reeks."_ The teen looked at the computer in the eyes as he sprayed himself with the whole bottle of Axe Body Spray. (And proceeded to cough his lungs out.)

"Shut up."

 

 _"Your shirt is on backwards."_ He groaned but didn't look down at his shirt.

"Stop it!"

 

 

 

Michael was waiting for Jeremy as soon as he stepped out. The sky was void of clouds, allowing the sun to scorch everything in sight, including Jeremy. The pale teen shielded his eyes with his hands as he locked the door.

"Hey," Michael greeted with a small smile, "How're you feeling?" Jeremy opened his mouth answer, but was interrupted by his best friend sneezing multiple times in a row.

Jeremy laughed. "You sneeze like a kitten."

Michael opened the window. "Oh, my God, what the hell did you shower with? Axe?"

The paler of the two turned crimson. "Yes, actually." Michael stared at him slack-jawed, as if he didn't recognize him.

"Dude, that smells like shit!"

_"I told you so.”_

“And why is your face bleeding?” He extended his arm to Jeremy’s face with a scowl on his own.

_“And you didn't listen…”_

"Shut up!" Jeremy sqwaked angrily. Upon seeing Michael's confused expression, he explained, "No, not you. That— that was at the Squip."

Michael turned the car on and began to drive. "Oh. Right."

The only sounds for a few minutes were the low music from the radio and the Michael's humming. The teen wore an unreadable façade.

"So, uh, are you going to, like, tell anyone?"

Jeremy glanced at the rear view mirror and met eyes with the Squip momentarily. He searched for a hint of emotion or response to the question, but the computer’s eyes remained impassive.

“I- I don't know. I don't think so.”

“Hm. Why not?”

The paler closes his eyes and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing lightly. “I just… They- I don’t- I- I just think they might hate me for it. After, y’know, the— the play, I still think they hate me for— for doing… that to them.”

Michael’s face remained neutral. However, his grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white, and he appeared to have clenched his jaw. “I don't hate you,” he said softly, “and everything that happened wasn't your fault.” 

Then, as an afterthought, he adde, “Well, not entirely, at least.”

 _“You never apologized,”_ the Squip remarked. Jeremy twisted in his seat to look at it. Its face was almost… _tender. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I recommend you do that now.”_ It glitched and faded. Before the teen could retort, he realized that the Squip was right, for once.

_“For once?”_

_Don’t fucking push it, asshole._ It didn't respond, but somehow Jeremy could _feel_ its smugness. 

His best friend had a confused expression on his face, and was looking at him from the corner of his eye. They had reached the school. Micheal parked the car at the entrance so Jeremy could get out.

Jeremy pursed his lips and exhaled, his hand on the door handle. “Look, uh, I’m really sorry.”

“For what?”

He let go. “I realized that I never apologized. For the whole… situation. I’m really sorry for pushing you aside and for forgetting how much I cared about you. You’re so much more important than popularity. And I know an apology isn't enough for- for, well, for everything, but I promise it won’t happen again. Ever.”

Micheal offered a small smile. Hurt outlined the shape of his lips and memories of the past clouded his eyes. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” He reached out to squeeze Jeremy’s pale, bare arm. His hand was warm and soft, and Jeremy put his own hand over it. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever, just like in the movies, with the radio serving as background music. The world seemed to still before them.

A car honked behind, causing them to jump.

“I’ll get out now,” Jeremy said opening the door, flustered. His cheeks tinged pink, only partially because of the heat.

“Jeremy?" 

“Yeah?" he breathed out.

"Your shirt's on backwards.”

 

 

The Squip had the goddamned _nerve_ to _laugh_ as Jeremy sprinkled water on his face. So, yeah, maybe it was right about his shirt. Big deal.

_“What was that all about?”_

_It’s called an apology._

_“You know I am not referring to that, Jeremy.”_

_I don’t know what you're talking about._ He rubbed his eyes.

The Squip hummed. _“You’re smarter than you think. I suppose you'll figure it out eventually. ”_

 

 

Any teacher who taught a class right before lunchtime was worthy of pity. Students would be hungry and desperate for some free time, hence, they wouldn't be able to concentrate or pretend to be civilized.

This year, Jeremy had the fortune to take a class called “College Prep” right before lunch. As he settled into a seat, he looked around for familiar faces. Jenna Roland sat in a corner on her phone, earbuds in and ignoring the chaos all around. Jake Dillinger wheeled into the room, apologizing to anyone who’s foot he ran over. He moved to a chair in the front row, to the far right of the room, right in front of Jeremy. Jake did the ‘sup’ head nod at him and flashed him his characteristic (and admittedly dazzling) smile.

Suddenly, the door opened and a woman entered. Everything went silent. 

The woman was tall and elegant. Her skin was naturally tan and her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her knee-length, flowery, and blue dress flowed behind her as she walked like ocean waves, her black pumps click-clacked loudly in the stunned silence. She was new, yet clearly very confident; new teachers were usually shyer and nervous.

The new teacher set her bag down gracefully. She opened a cabinet to reveal stacks of books. A collective complain spread through the classroom.

“The school requires me to hand out these textbooks,” she said, her voice steady. Her voice wasn't loud, but it wasn't soft either. It was… powerful and meaningful, like everything she said was important. “I can assure you, though, that you won’t need them. Keep the in your locker, in the back of your closet, feed it to your dog, give it to you little sibling as a coloring book. I don't care, just make sure you return it in good conditions by the end of the year.” She gestured to the books and one by one they went ahead and grabbed one.

Once everybody had a book, the teacher sat on her desk at the front of the classroom, facing the group of students before her. She kicked off her heels and sat cross-legged on her desk.

“Welcome to College Prep, also known as ‘How To Adult 101’ and ‘What the Hell To Do After High School,’ and, my personal favorite, ‘Getting Your Shit Together Before Graduating.’” A few laughs erupted through the class. It even earned a smile from Jeremy.

“My name is Maritza Atenea Feliciano Bautista. You may call me Maritza or Atenea or Feliciano or Bautista, just don't call me ‘miss.’ I am 35 years old, I’ve never married, never had kids. I lived with my parents until they kicked me out at 21. I’ve changed majors more than once, been rejected by more jobs than I can fit in two hands, and I’ve had my card declined at least five times, in purchases that have been under $7.” The class was silent. “Why do I tell you all of this? Life isn't perfect. It’s not like in the movies, where teenagers graduate from high school and immediately know what to do with their lives and get their goals without much struggle. Life is full of ups and downs, failure and success, and it’s all unpredictable. That brings me to the first lesson of this class: Don’t think for _one_ second that you have your life after high school planned out. The point of this class is not to scare you or tell you what to do with your lives. For all I care, you can act as a parasite to your parents until you or they die, or be a stripper just because it pays, or go on and blow people’s brains out for a living. Who cares? Actually, maybe don't do that last one.” Most of the people actually laughed at this. Maritza grinned. “The purpose of this class is to help you figure out what you want in life and to prepare you for the unexpected.” She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. 

“I want you all to take out a notebook and a pen.” She wrote something on the board behind her.

It read: _What do you want in life?_

Maritza turned to them. “Write that in your notebooks and answer it. We’re going to compare the answers at the end of the year. Write whatever you want or nothing at all. I don't care. It’s not for a grade; its for yourself.”

 

 

When lunchtime finally came, students poured out of classrooms like fire ants after an anthill is crushed by an ignorant, morbid fool. They swarmed and filled the halls, making it hard to walk two steps without bumping into someone. This caused Jeremy to sweat even more than usual. A group of teens chanted about being seniors, and the twiggy boy Jeremy had scared off in the bathroom fell to the floor, possibly getting trampled. 

Jeremy felt bad. He squeezed through the crowd until he reached the boy and helped him up. The boy seemed to recognize him foot he bathroom and gasped. He ran a hand through his curly hair and muttered a wobbly ‘thank you.’ He never met Jeremy’s eyes.

_Great, now some freshman’s afraid of me._

Eventually, Jeremy was able to swerve past the cluster of people and get air in the cafeteria. He breathed in deeply to calm himself. He wasn’t agoraphobic, but being in the middle large swarms of people caused him severe distress and trouble breathing.

He sat across Michael, facing the entrance just as Rich was laughing a little too loudly and a little too long probably at something Jake had said. They greeted him.

 _“Oh, no,”_ the Squip said from inside his head. Jeremy flinched slightly, startled. Rich stopped laughing. 

“You, uh, you okay?” Rich asked. Jeremy waved his hand dismissively. There was a throbbing in the back of his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. What are you guys talking about?”

_Why do I have a headache?_

_“When I get ‘distressed’ you feel the effects. Excuse the mild inconvenience.”_

_Then don't be fucking distressed. God._

The Squip projected its physical from. It stood tall behind his best friend and made more of a show than usual to grab Jeremy’s attention, telling him something about switching seats with Michael.

It could use optic nerve blocking, but it didn't want to give the boy anymore excuse not to trust it.

“Man, that new teacher is pretty dope, huh?” Jake quipped conversationally.

“Which one?” Michael asked.

“The College Prep one.” Michael looked at his schedule.

“Haven’t taken her class yet. I have her right after this,” he said. Rich checked his own schedule and said he did, too. They high-fived. Jeremy absently listened to his friends chatter and discuss the new teacher. (She _had_ been pretty memorable.)

Instead, he observed with a frown how the Squip glitched wildly. It misaligned, its legs and head separating from its body, and realigned over and over.

_What the fuck?_

“Christine!”

That brusquely grabbed his attention. 

 _“Jeremy!”_ the Squip called in a fruitless attempt to divert Jeremy’s attention.

Christine walked with an arm linked with that boy from the mall. She hugged him tightly, kissed his cheek, and they parted ways.

Jeremy looked down at his food. Michael sent him a knowing look and frowned. A moth perched itself in Jeremy’s heart and began to feast.

“Hello everyone!” she chirped. The sunshine in her voice was literally palpable. The boys greeted her back, Jeremy halfheartedly. 

Michael glanced at his best friend. “So, Christine. Who was that guy?” Jeremy’s head shot up, and his ears turned into radars.

“Who? Oh, you mean Phillip? Phillip’s my—“

Her sentence was cut short by Chloe and Brooke arriving at their table. Chloe held out a piece of paper, with a few words elegantly written on it.

“I’m hosting a party at my house on Saturday,” Brooke said with a genuine smile, “It’s like a Start of Senior Year Party, an you're all invited!”

Chloe shook the paper vigorously. “Well? Take a picture! Can’t have you guys forgetting!” Those at the table complied.

“You guys are pretty cool,” Chloe continued, “So you better be there.”

They walked away, with Brooke shouting, “Don’t forget!” as soon as they turned their backs.

The conversation at the table steered to the party, what time it was, who would go, what to wear, all talk of boys who Christine linked arms with forgotten. Jeremy didn't have the heart to ask who he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maritza is based on my biology teacher. My biology teacher was tough, short, and basically didn't give a shit. She didn't swear in class, but she did mouth the words to swear words more than a few times. Everyone was scared of her, but she was a really good teacher. Kudos to you, Rivera; you inspired a character.
> 
> Lmao this chapter took this long because I was re-watching Stranger Things with my aunt and I realized how much I love my mans Dustin, so I kept thinking "fucc should I make a dustin-centered fic or not" so idk?? should I?? y'all please tell me I spent literal HOURS thinking about this I even began researching his disease/condition in depth (if I should, can y'all give ideas of what it should be about? I have a general idea but still)
> 
> If you find yourself at fault with anything in my writing (typos, characterization, plot holes) please tell me! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!


	6. In Which I Was Going to Make This Lighthearted But Nope Lmao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy goes to the pool party, and the Squip is helpful for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO guess who doesn't have an excuse for taking 69420666 years to post this!!! ya its me. School started and it was really hard for me to get accustomed back to it. But heres my trash writing!!! enjoy y'all
> 
> haha funny story um I thought I was going to make this Not Angst and instead deal more with Jeremy's sexuality but guess what nyall!!! I was wrong
> 
> enjoy this tiny bit of jake development
> 
> Also I apologize for the lack of BMC girls in this fic! I swear its not on purpose, I just haven't found a way to make it flow with the plot. I promise, however, that you will get your Christine content, and im trying with Jenna. I can't promise much Brooke and Chloe in this, but im really racking my brain. I really am
> 
> TW: Actual near-drowning. If you'd like to skip that, read up until "and he was able to see the horror dawn on Michaels face" and pick back up in "and just like that, it was over as soon as it started"

The rest of the week passed without much event. Jeremy spent his time ignoring his father’s scarce presence and the Squip’s constant quips and comments.

His feet were cement blocks that weighed him down everywhere he went. The Squip’s existence was an added burden, one that made his head hang low and heavy. The heat made him sweat everything out like you would sweat out a fever; every bead that dripped down his back was a drop of energy that left his body weary and uncomfortably humid. 

Whenever his friends would ask him at lunch if he felt sick or if something was wrong, he'd shake his head and wave it off. _No, I'm fine, I'm okay, okay, okay, okay okay okay._

Okay.

The Squip kept pressuring Jeremy to attend Brooke’s party on Saturday until he finally gave in. He was tired of having to listen to its annoyingly soothing voice, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, complying with what it said would make it shut the hell up. (He was wrong.)

Jeremy was barely able to spend any time at Michael’s house since his family had come to visit,  but he'd promised Jeremy he’d be at the party if only to keep him company. 

 

 

 

 

On Saturday, Jeremy woke up earlier than usual. The clock read 9:04am when he glanced at it. So far, no nightmares about drowning. 

When he walked into the kitchen, he didn't even bother look for food. He knew the drawers were empty. Instead, he bent down at the front door to get the mail. Just then, the Squip appeared next to Jeremy, hazily projected, muttering a warbled ‘good morning,’ and proceeding to dictate the time, temperature, and weather of the day. The Squip’s sudden apparitions has gradually startled him less and less.

“Why are you telling all this stuff?” Jeremy asked absentmindedly, shuffling through the mail. 

_“It helps to know the day’s conditions when you have a busy day ahead.”_

Jeremy hummed.

Water bill. Magazine.Work letters. Welcome letter from the school. Urgent electricity bill. Medical bill. Promo for vacuum—

Wait. Medical bill? 

Jeremy frowned and turned the rectangle over in his hands. It was addressed to his father, and on the outside it said something about treatment. He racked his brain to see if his father had been in any accident recently. He came up with nothing. But what would he know? They never talked; his father could have gotten married with some woman in sometime he was gone and he’d never know.

He set the bill down on the kitchen counter and reached for a pen. He’d pay for the electricity bill first, then he’d worry about the medical bill.

“Morning, Jeremy,” his father greeted, causing his son to jump. 

“Dad, hi,” he huffed. His dad was there. What a surprise.

“What’s this?” His father reached for the papers, and his eyes widened ever-so-slightly as they swept over the medical bill. “Let me do that. Go get ready. We have stuff to do.” He strategically removed the mail from the counter.

“Uh, actually, I’m going to a party.”

“A what? Seriously?”

“Um, yeah…”

His father’s face was a mix of confusion and disbelief. “What time?”

 

 

 

 

 _Two years my ass,_ Jeremy thought, holding his cheek in pain.

 _“Well maybe if you actually went to the appointments when you’re supposed to, you would alreadyy have them off,”_ the Squip said, seemingly sitting down across the teen.

As luck would have it, “stuff” was referring to a dentist’s appointment to get Jeremy’s braces tightened. Meaning, mouth pain for the rest of the day.

“Shut up.” Jeremy changed from his jeans to his swimsuit, an orange and blue Bermuda length swim shorts. Then he changed his t-shirt for a white long-sleeved swim shirt. He’d gotten used to the Squip seeing him bare, so he had no shame. Nothing it hadn't already seen.

 _“I recommend wearing something else,”_ it piped up. Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

 _“If I recall correctly, you still have that Speedo,”_ it said casually.

“What? No, fuck no,” Jeremy said, blushing. Yes, it was true, he did indeed have that black speedo, but it was really just as a joke. He’d never wear something as revealing as that, especially not in front of his classmates. Too many things could go wrong. “There is no way in hell I’m wearing that.”

 _“Jeremy, I can assure you it has a higher purpose.”_ (Okay, so maybe it wasn't a very concrete purpose, but the chances of a more favorable out come in the future would be heightened greatly.)

“No,” Jeremy said promptly.

The Squip rolled it eyes so far back its blue pupils were no longer visible and exhaled. _“Fine. Let’s make a deal. You—“_

“Oh, my God, no.”

_“Just hear me out—“_

“No!”

_“Listen—!“_

 

 

 

 

The music was blasting wildly through the white mansion. Several cars blocked the direct entrance to Brooke’s house, so Jeremy’s father had to park a few houses down.

His father was counting down on his fingers. “…And don't drink any alcohol. Well, okay, I’ll be fair; no more than one can of beer. But if you get home drunk we’re going to have a big problem…”

As his father listed all the activities that were off-limits, Jeremy applied sunscreen on his arms. In the end, Jeremy and the Squip had compromised; Jeremy could keep his swim shorts, but he couldn't wear the t-shirt, and he had to wear sunscreen.

 _I hate sunscreen_ , he thought as he tried to blend the product with his pasty skin.

_“Do you have any idea of how pale you are? If you don't wear sunscreen you'll turn red, and it’s going to hurt like a bitch. It’s better to not risk it.”_

_Whatever._

Wet, hormonal, and horny teenagers surrounded Jeremy as soon as he was inside the house. He knew most of their names, but there were more than a few people who he didn't recognize. He dodged a few couples making out as he tried to get to the pool area.

People jumped and splashed water everywhere. Jeremy tried hard not to slip anywhere. The swimming pool was too full to get in, so instead he gravitated towards the snacks table.

Despite how much his mouth hurt, he stuffed his mouth with chips and brownies to avoid talking to anyone and downed it all with a big cup of soda. Most people were drinking beer. Someone called his name mid-bite.

“Hey!” He turned to see Jake calling his name. Jeremy forced himself to swallow everything in his mouth and refilled his coke before settling down in a lawn chair next to him. 

“Hey, man.” Jake held up his hand for a fist bump, which Jeremy conceded. “Did you just get here?”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, just a few minutes ago.”

“Cool. You gonna get in?” He gestured to the crowd. 

“I- I dont think so. I don't really like big groups of people. Makes me feel claustrophobic.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

“A-aren’t you gonna get in?”

Jake laughed and pointed at his legs. At this, Jeremy flushed with embarrassment.

“Fuck— fuck, I'm sorry—“

“Nah, dude don't worry,” Jake interrupted, still laughing, “Its okay. Funny thing, when I first got the wheelchair I actually often forgot I couldn't, y’know, walk anymore. I'd try and get up only to realize my legs don't work anymore. It took some getting used to.” He glanced at the pool, where Rich was waving his tiny, bare and burned arms in the air.

“This one’s for you, Jakey D!” Rich screamed as he jumped in the air and flipped swiftly, landing clumsily in an empty spot in the pool.

Jake smiled, his eyes clouded with amusement and nostalgia, and his lips lined with melancholy. “Sometimes, I miss being normal.”

 

 

 

 

Eventually, Michael arrived in the middle of Jake and Jeremy's conversation. Most people didn't notice, but he caught Jeremy's attention like a catcher to a baseball.

Jeremy called Michael over.

“Hey man,” Jake greeted, and they fist bumped. He leaned over to give both of them a cheek-to-cheek kiss. 

The Squip seemed to “turn on” or “start up” in Jeremy's head. It didn't project its physical form; it was just… kinda _there_. 

By then, the pool had mostly cleared out, the water level being much lower than intended. Michael took off his shirt and glasses with ease, and Jeremy wondered with amazement how he managed to be so comfortable in his own skin.

He jumped into the pool, despite how unsanitary the water must've been by then, and motioned for Jeremy to join. 

The pale teen glanced at his companion, who in turn made a gesture that said, “ _Go for it.”_

Jeremy stripped his shirt off, crossed his arms over his chest, and stood at the edge of the pool. He dipped his foot in; the water was icy, and there was no way he was getting in.

“Jump!” Michael said, nearing closer. Jeremy stood perfectly still and shook his head. The water was _freezing_ , and he wasn't a masochist. The Squip appeared next to him, and he grimaced. It raised its eyebrows, a slight smirk dancing on its lips.

Suddenly a foot pushed Jeremy in, and the boy’s arms flailed in the air wildly. “FUCK!” he screeched, and for a split second he was able to see the horror dawn on Michael’s face.

Jeremy fell on Michael, pushing them both underwater. He hadn't even had time to take in a breath, before being pushed under. Fortunately, the pool was deep, so he didn't hit the bottom. AS he rose to the top, however, Michael, no doubtably by accident, kicked Jeremy under him, knocking out the little bit of air he had in his lungs.

Jeremy inhaled water, and for in his desperate attempts to swim his legs cramped.

Great.

The cold water had turned into acid, and it burned every bit of him. His nose, eyes, and ears melted off like wax, leaving his face nothing but a hollow skull. He was back again in a dark ocean, in his nightmares, neither dead nor alive. His lungs screamed for air, his brain screamed to move, his heart screamed for help. He had sunk to the bottom, motionless, and all commands his brain sent to move were rejected by his nerves.

As if they suddenly had a mind of their own, his limbs twitched. His eyes rolled up and he caught sight of the Squip, seemingly floating, in the same position he was.

It moved its arms, and then Jeremy’s did too. Then its, legs, and then Jeremy’s, and then they were rising back up. Jeremy’s body was moving, but he wasn’t. In his mind, he was still at the bottom. Powerless.

And just like that, it had ended as soon as it began.

 

 

 

 

 

 _“If you actually exercised, it wouldn't have happened,”_ the Squip said awkwardly next to Jeremy, its hair for once a tussled mess.

Jeremy stared at the TV without taking anything in.

After he rose to the top, he’d coughed and spat his guts out. Michael had proceeded to apologize profusely for kicking him and not helping sooner, and Jake for pushing him in. The Squip had glitched and faded.

They’d spent the rest of the party away from the pool and closer to the snack bar. Later on, when Jake had left to spend time with his other friends, Michael asked about Jeremy’s situation with the Squip. Then, he tried to get his mind off it by talking about his family and inviting him to his house on Monday, to which Jeremy said yes to.

Jeremy hadn't wanted to think about it, and said he was fine, which is easy to do in the company of others. But when you have no one to talk to at 10:26pm, you're stuck alone with only your deepest, darkest, most unwanted thoughts as company. (And a shitty super computer.)

His body tensed up when he thought about the party and he got a headache simply thinking about everything.

 

 

**Player 2: Hey man. How you feeling?? Im really sorry for not helping you. I really thought you were okay**

**Me: dont worry about it, im fine.. i forgive u.thanks for asking tho**

**Player 2: Okay… If you need anything tell me. Im just a text away**

**Me: no worries, thank you**

 

 

The teen had thought about asking the Squip about… well, actually, no. Not now. Some other time. He deserved to relax.

The Squip would have explained had he asked. It had given neither of them pleasure to experience it, despite what Jeremy might had thought, but drastic times called for drastic measures. And in certain cases, those measures caused bad memories to resurface.

Jeremy didn't sleep soundly that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao how was that!!! what is it w me making jeremy drown every 5 words!!!
> 
> If you want to find me on Instagram, im @bite.me.prick
> 
> fun fact it was originally going to be "Michael" instead of "help" in that one part ;;;)))))
> 
> If you find yourself at fault with anything in my writing (typos, plot holes, characterization, etc.), please let me know! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!


	7. Im sorry

I have not forgotten this fic. I am fully aware that it has been a long time since the last chapter, but it saddens me to say I am going on a hiatus. I don't know how long it will last, but I estimate about 10 months, but hopefully it will be less.

I am not going on a hiatus because I am lazy or out of ideas. I live in Puerto Rico, and if you've been following the news, then you know that hurricane María has completely devastated the island. We have no running water, electricity, or cell phone service, except in a small portion of San Juan. This is the first time in a week that I have access to internet.

Please understand that this is a very tough situation. Food, water, and gasoline is scarce, and the whole island has a curfew at 7pm. Crime is increasing, I had to leave my neighborhood with only a change of clothes and my passport because it was said that supposedly a dam near me was about to explode (turned out to be a false alarm, thank God), and I haven't heard anything from my father or his side of the family. I am not asking you to take pity on me, only to be understanding.

Fortunately, I am very much okay, my house is still standing, and my family's jobs are secure. I live in a relatively safe neighborhood, I think I re-start school soon, and I'm pretty sure my father is okay. I also have a couple of things to keep me entertained, so don't worry about me! :^)

ALSO PLEASE TELL ME APPS I CAN DOWNLOAD ON IPHONE TO LISTEN TO MUSIC FOR FREE AND OFFLINE WITHOUT SUBSCRIPTIONS ASAP I BEG OF YOU

Anyways, I promise to update as soon as I can.

Love, Nani

**Author's Note:**

> If you find yourself at fault with anything here (typos, characterization, details that don't add up, etc) please please please tell me! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!


End file.
